A quiet night in Thorin's Hall...

Breville sat silently at the back of the Hall, detatched from the throng, he watched thefigures at the bar, their hearty laughter and their emotive greetings. He looked down at the full horn mug in his hand and again wondered what he was doing here. Sounds of shattered glass and wood were nothing new, however the sounds of combat caused him to look up sharply, Breville paused, it was still too early for fights, he frowned, the combatants would be too sober, and that was never a good thing. Burly armoured figures cast their tankards aside dramaticaly as suddenly the assembled throng squared off. Breville shook his head and shrank back into the shadows, he fixed a non threatening expression on his face and waited patiently. Holding his horn mug tightly Breville casualy stooped as if to tie a loose lace, before suddenly sliding the bench opposite into the shins of an attacker poised to strike an implausibly hairy half naked figure. The figure appeared to be trading pummelling blows with a second ursuine figure each cheering after the blow was recieved. The startled attacker yelped, staggered then began shouting what appeared to be a stream of effortlessly creative curses towards the still seated Hobbit. Breville adopted an sincere innocent expression, then muttered softly ... 'too noisy, ya lost the element of suprise, and never should never take ya eyes off ya target' Brevilles suddenly winked at the attacker, as the implausibly hairy figure spun arround a manic grin on his face and violently head butted the still cursing figure, who now suddenly fell slumped to the floor, silenced. Breville was still smiling as he leaned back suddenly, a figure suddenly leapt forward closing in on his right side. Time seemed to freeze as Breville became aware of matching curved scars stark against a whiskered maw, and hard dark shining eyes the figure paused grinning and roared. The attacker was too confident, seeing a socialy awkward, unarmed, casualy though smartly attired Hobbit sitting alone seemingly frozen with fear. Breville dropped his face slightly then flicked his his hand outward, it was a waste of good alcohol, but Breville had learnt sharing was good, it was a universal social skill. The potent alcohol splashed into the attackers face, momentarily pausing his attack, confused and temporarily blinded the attacker rubbed at his eyes, Breville reacted swiftly and decisively, deftly rolling under a nearby table. Breville paused, glancing arround the Hall from his restricted viewpoint, after a few moments he reached one arm up, his hand searching the table top... suddenly a tankard was thrust into his searching fingers. Then a gruff voice bellowed... 'Try this laddie, it'll put hair on ya chest... and what's me seat doing over there?' Breville sighed and crawled out from under the table, he nodded thanks to his gruff companion Coltraine, the Bard resumed his playing, and within seconds the hall was again filled with laughter,cheers and flat baritone singing voices. Breville sipped his brew, he resolved next time he would spend the Fall Festival at home in the Shire, Dwarves were so, very... boisterous.